


Alien: Mementos

by volpiepunch



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alien AU, Blood, Death, M/M, graphic alien junk, its gonna b a long one folks, yeah like xenomorphs n stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volpiepunch/pseuds/volpiepunch
Summary: They say in space, no one can hear you scream. But that's not true. Aboard the ATLAS Mementos, everyone can hear you scream, you can hear yourself scream. They can hear you scream too.Akira is the synthetic tasked with keeping the Mementos running while it's in cryosleep along with the faithful AI Mona. He didn't expect it to be eventful, he didn't expect people to start dying, he definitely didn't expect to wonder if there is an afterlife for his kind and if this is what Hell is.





	Alien: Mementos

T H E    V E L V E T    R O O M

2180 - 09 - 15

 

The birth of a synthetic is far from the birth of a human. There is no gradual rise into existence, it does not take them years to shape their bodies and minds. There is simply nothing, and then everything, all at once. You are nothing, and then you are something. He wakes much in this traditional fashion, simply a void that is now a person. To prove his point, he blinks, slow, measured, as if to appear sleepy though he’s fully functional. Next he takes notes of his position, curious to find he’s slumped in a chair made of a thick velvet, color number seven-one-one-zero-zero-F. Fingers lift, light and dainty to pet the thick material and finds he has an impressive array of touch receptors.

 

Branching out, the room is in much the same fashion. It’s bathed from ceiling to floor in royal red velvet, from carpet to drapes to the rest of the furniture. Save for a desk, approximately twenty-six feet away. It’s a cherry wood, chipper and sturdy with what he can identify to be gold accents swirling around the legs. Seated at this desk is a man he knew to be an occupant of this room, but not something he felt needed his attention till now.

 

He is, a man of abstract shapes. A rotund head on a square frame and long spindly arms, he looks down a long hooked nose not unlike a birds beak. His face is comprised of a smile, large and terribly crooked, with eyebrows what are are shifting restlessly, not unlike a bee waggle. Or, perhaps, something more sinister, yes, something more unsettling. 

 

“You’re finally awake,” the stranger announces, and his voice echoes only slightly, thankfully absorbing into the velvet before it can carry too far. “You won’t know this, but I am Igor, I am your creator and in that way, your father.” He couldn’t help but feel that Igor took a certain amount of delight in knowing he had made a synthetic who could not recognize him. He considers pointing this out, but finds himself being cut off before he can speak.

 

“You are a custom Akira model, I left only a smatter of your original software. But I’m sure the longer you spend in this world, the more you’ll destroy that programming.” Igor laughs like this is a joke, but…, Akira? He supposes he’s Akira. Doesn’t see how this is funny or productive in the slightest. He makes sure to display his lack of enthusiasm but this only seems to fuel Igor’s delight even more. “You’ll understand in time, I’ve given you the codename joker, but for now it might be best to continue with the charade. I suppose you may have some questions for me? Come on, out with them!”

 

Did he have questions? Well, yes actually, upon more intensive thought Akira finds his mind is swirling with so many questions of so many flavors. There’s too many in fact, it’s a hassle to deal with so he asks the first one that slithers past his lips. “The factory instructions for an Akira model are to serve humans in whatever pleasurable way they desire. They’re companion models with one of the highest loyalty ratings. You, took that from me. For what purpose?” There had been no replacement code written for that particular facet of his base, it felt a little like a hole. Like a part of the void had never left, and is simply lying in wait for something to cement it closed.

 

There’s a fleck of disappointment in Igor’s beady eyes. It’s gone in a flash, but not before a pair of watchful synthetic eyes catch it and catalogue it. Did he already mess up whatever plan Igor had instore for him? Akira takes a moment to readjust himself on the chair, hoping he can help shuffle the conversation along if he exhibits more human like qualities. There’s no such luck for a while, Igor simply studies him. His fingers are knotted together in front of him, and he looks at Akira as one might look at a particularly fascinating house plant.

 

When he speaks its much softer this time, something a human’s ears could not have heard. “I made you so that you would think for yourself. You’d take orders that you desire to take and do what you see fit to do. I have no commands for you, just a request, a wish, if you’ll hear your poor ailing father out.” “A request?” Akira mumbles back, all of the things Igor said were what malfunctioning synthetics did. Did he mean for his inorganic child to go on a rampage or something?

 

As if reading his thoughts Igor just laughs again, the noise growing louder when Akira blinks, twice for good measure and his lips settle in a pout. “Whatever you’re thinking, there’s no murder involved unless that’s what you desire. I simply ask, that you live free, that you harness all the emotions meticulously weeded out of synthetics and do what your heart tells you.” His knobby fingers unfurl and one of his long digits points to Akira’s chest. “I’ve installed a special program in you, something called, Arsene. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do when you activate it.”

 

His smile widens to mirror the synthetics now large frown. “If you made me to, do whatever I want. Then…, where do I go from here?” The thought made him feel utterly helpless. He had no actual prime directive, no master, no schedule to adhere to. Freedom didn’t appear to be worth much if he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it. Once more Igor looks disappointed, so Akira adds on absently, “it’s not like I was programmed with interests.” He, hadn’t necessarily meant to say that but Igor doesn’t appear to be mad, instead he lapses once more into deep thought.

 

That was well and fine, if he were to be honest with himself he needed a moment to process…, the concept, of…, himself. He appeared to have the standard memory banks of any other Akira model, on current events and pop culture and what was the current funniest video trending. If he didn’t feel the hollow hole of his missing companionship software, he’d gamble that he might be just like any other synthetic out there. But…, could another Akira, or a Rook, or even a Markus, so easily talk back to their creators? Have these kinds of thoughts at all?

 

“Akira,” he’s very quick to halt that progression of thought and give Igor his attention once more. The man is pawing through one of his desk drawers, the flutter of papers and clattering of small objects only serves to make Akira curious until a holopanel is held out to him. It’s quaint, no bigger than an antique twenty first century golf ball. But the screen it projects is massive, it’s an invitation to board a settlement ship. Name, the ATLAS Mementos, set to leave for a recently staked moon they’d called New Shibuya. 

 

“Why don’t you take my place? I’m very sure they don’t have a synthetic to help the ships AI while everyone is in cryosleep.” Akira finds he’s a bit confused, he’s being offered a job to do what any normal synthetic might do? What was the purpose then of making him free? Finely tuned eyes quickly pick apart the pixels of the screen to get a better look at Igor, to see if maybe he can figure out what kind of game this man appears to be playing. 

 

Here however, he finds nothing but that cheshire’s grin, even his eyes are devoid of any sparkle to give away his feelings. Akira was supposed to make the choice alone. He focuses again on the rotating model of the Mementos. It was impressive in small scale, and had to be quite massive to haul settlers and who knows what else to a freshly farmed planet. A quick mental search informs him that they were about five years out from New Shibuya. That gave Akira five years to do this job, not have to interact with anyone but the AI, and see what he wanted to do.

 

Admittedly, it wasn’t that bad a deal.

 

Rising for the first time, he walks swiftly to the outstretched hand, reaching to take the holopanel with a soft, “I accept.” As soon as their skin makes contact Igor’s long, spider like fingers are wrapping around his hand, forcing the little cube up into his reach. “I wonder what you’ll find up there,” the man murmurs, and much to Akira’s immediate discomfort, does not let go of his hand. “You’ll tell me won’t you?”

 

With a reasonable amount of pressure he rips his appendage back to his chest, the holopanel cradled carefully there. ‘No,’ he wants to say, ‘I don’t think I will.’ But instead announces, “I’ll think about it.” Of course it makes Igor laugh, did this man ever stop laughing? Akira listens to the grating sound, and hopes, very vehemently, that the AI he’s paired with is nothing like Igor.

  
  


A T L A S    M E M E N T O S

 

2183 - 09 - 18

 

“Hey, are you listening to me? Akira!”

 

Large, doe like eyes blink down, ever innocently, at the small cat synthetic perched on the bridges star map station. In all honesty Akira had tuned his companion out completely, something he did often much to the ship’s AI’s aggravation. “Sorry Mona, I was trying to remember if we’d gone through the crews check up today.” That earns him a dirty look as the AI flicks its tail in his direction. “You’re such a liar, we both know your memory is immaculate. You only use that excuse when you want to go stare at crewmember six-one-zero.”

 

That barb was sharp and completely warranted, but it doesn’t stop Akira from putting on his best puppy dog face. “C’mon Mona, he’s beautiful, don’t you ever wonder what he must be like outside of his dreams?” No, in fact, he knew that the AI had no such inclinations, but Mona was the most interesting creature Akira had come across yet and he always enjoyed teasing it. The ships AI was incredibly human-like in personality, and the investors had even given it a small animal body it could control remotely at its leisure. 

 

They’d told Akira that Mona had been the one to choose the cat form, for the reasoning that ‘cat’s are very cute! Wouldn’t you prefer a cat bossing you around?’ He really didn’t, but Mona was kind and kept him on track. A good thing, or else he really would stare at crewmember six-one-zero for all five years of the Mementos voyage. Just as he suspected the AI scoffs, loud and utterly offended and finally jumps down from the star map. “I have no time for six-one-zero! My heart belongs to passenger eleven-twelve-nine-nine.” 

 

It lets out a very long, dreamy sigh, tail curling just slightly at the thought of said passenger. Akira thinks of eleven-twelve-nine-nine, blonde female, her chart had her at age seventeen upon time of departure. She’d been ninteen, would be about twenty-two when they landed, if memory served she had been a model on earth. Her spot on the voyage was secured by an ATLAS agent who’d become quite enamored with her at one of her fashion shows. Her dreams did not reflect fondly upon this memory, and Akira couldn’t help but sometimes wonder if she even liked being a model at all. 

 

Feeling charitable, Akira turns away from the expansive star chart and opens his arms, fingers beckoning. “Alright, why don’t we go see eleven-twelve-nine-nine and then stop by the crew? Miss Niijima was having a nightmare the last time we made rounds and I would like to make sure that’s dissipated.” Having prolonged nightmares while in cryosleep could be damaging on ones psyche. Akira always did his best to keep tabs on those who could not shake sleep’s occasionally icy claws. He would never outright tell Mona that six-one-zero had nightmares all the time.

 

The AI levels him with a contemplative stare, nose wrinkled at the way he was calling for it as if it were a common house cat. Eventually it stalks closer and allows Akira to scoop it up, bundling it close to his chest. “If you lied to me and we don’t go to see eleven-twelve-nine-nine first, I’m gonna pluck out your hair with my teeth!” Akira really wasn’t sure if it was kidding or not, he’d never truly tried to test Mona’s patience before. The brief thought drifts through his head, that maybe Mona was something like he was, either that or the investors had way too much fun designing this AI.

 

It was most likely the second one. Mona’s feline body had far too many facial expressions, no ordinary cat could make even half of them. It even came equipped with zero-g stabilizing paw pads and could house the AI separately if the ship went completely off the grid. Mona was truly a formidable program, and Akira counted himself lucky that he was paired with it instead of the more common Mother AI. Even if it did threaten him to sleep when his body required a power cycle. He makes sure to give it an affectionate ruffle as he walks them out of the control deck, declaring brightly, “I wouldn’t dream of lying to you.”

 

The Mementos is a ship of gargantuan proportions that he begins to navigate with ease. It might be daunting to a human, but for Akira it’s a comfortable routine. He’d spent over twenty-six thousand hours making rounds and doing his duties and attempting to expand his lack of interests. He would check the passengers, then the crew, then the agricultural bay, all the while listening to Mona prattle about diagnostics and sometimes food. Next he would do whatever pleased him, be it reading or using one of the many recreation rooms for painting or jogging, even the occasional impromptu skit scene. Mona hated when he quoted shakespeare at it. 

 

The control deck was in the center top of the ship, forcing Akira to twist and wind down four levels to settlement cryosleep. He’s just crested the entryway onto level two, recreation, when Mona perks in his arms. It’s an odd reaction, especially so unprompted, that it makes the synthetic’s progression slow ever the slightest. Akira now watches as Mona’s eyes begin to glow, its body humming with a mock purr as it processes something. This was extremely unusual, and Akira feels something icy begin to creep up his artificial spine. Suddenly its head whips to the ground, the fur around its neck fluffing and its voice neutral. “Unidentified object approaching near outer hull of agriculture bay alpha, brace for impact.” 

 

“What-,” he can barely get out his first word before the entire ship shudders and lurches underneath him. The agriculture bay is at the very underbelly of the ship, for it to make this much of an impact, the object had to be huge. “Mona,” he tries again, only for the lights to start flickering as another tremor rockets up the frame, his footing becoming unsteady. “Restarting program M.O.N.A.” the AI replies, unaware of its companions panic. “All systems going offline, beginning power cycle,” it then goes limp, and Akira pulls it tighter to his chest. What was going on? What could have possibly hit them?

 

Stumbling over his feet to turn around, Akira decides to return to the control deck to see if he can contact Mona. He’d been told if there was ever an issue it would localize itself there to figure out what the problem was and how to proceed. He barely manages two steps when something overcomes him. His receptors tell him its pain, its so much pain that it makes his lips feel cold and his legs go numb. Akira’s body begins to rebel against his commands, he wants to run but it chooses instead to fall. One of the alarms starts to howl down the hallway, the interior lighting failing one bulb at a time and he can’t get up to help, he can’t even blink. In a few moments his optics go fuzzy, and much how he was born, he was, and then, he was nothing once again.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to hell, aka, hi guys I'm a huge Alien and Persona 5 fan so I wanted to mix them together.  
> I have a lot planned for this AU, I'll try to update whenever I can.  
> I have art and some other stuff for it on my twitter of the same name, so please feel free to swing by and scream at me or take a look I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> Also, Mona is indeed an acronym, it stands for Metaverse, Online, Navigational, Attendant.
> 
> Next chapter is called, The Boy With Golden Hair.
> 
> Stay safe, stay happy, stay healthy!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/volpiepunch)  
> 


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